By: Rogue

| In a hole in the floor of a cave are 12-15 human beings, trapped. Standing over them is Giran, towering as large as a building. He sneers at them, then raises a giantic foot and slowly lowers it down upon them. "You have a choice!" he says in a voice like thunder "You will serve me as slaves, or you will die like insects." His vast sole descends toward them, and as they cower beneath it. "Worship me!" he roars "Worship me as one who can snuff out your puny lives with nothing more than a casual step".

| The humans obey out of sheer terror. Tiny hands press against the hard sole, which seems to stretch for an infinite distance in all directions. They hesitate only a moment, and then press their faces to the firm surface, their small tongues flickering over it and moistening it in small areas. Giran croons encouragingly, his gigantic toes flexing in pleasure. His captives work harder, feverishly licking at the underside of his foot, desperate to please him and in doing so earn their lives.

| Giran smiles, but it is a cruel and evil smile. He allows them to worship his foot for a time, and then casually settles it down upon them. They scream in fear as the great sole pushes them to the ground and then covers them, its weight pinning them in place. Some wriggle helplessly; some plead for mercy; others continue to lick at the fleshy surface in a final attempt to earn the giant's favor. Giran, however, has nothing but disdain for the cowering bugs, and has already decided their fate. He enjoys the sensation of tiny beings squirming under his foot for a few moments, and then he begins to press down slowly. The screams of his victims grows louder, and then the sound is squeezed off into a soft gurgling sound as the breath is pressed out of their lungs. The tiny figures tense against the pressure, and then one by one their bones begin to break. A small crack here, a pop there, a harsh crackling and a moan of agony...

| With a savage grin, Giran shifts his weight onto that foot. Hundreds of tons press down on the doomed victims, whose bodies crunch loudly as they are crushed flat. Giran chuckles as he slowly grinds his victims into pulp, then idly wiggles his toes, feeling the remains squishing between them like warm mud. Lifting his foot, he pauses to scrape some of the gore from off of his sole before turning to exit the cave. He feels no remorse. After all, there are bustling cities out there to conquer, and he can always capture more slaves...

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